


Uggûn

by lettersfromzedelghem



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Anal Sex, Bilbo is too fussy to get them., Consort!Bilbo, Fix-It, Fluff, M/M, Minor Angst, Not too extreme piercings. Only applies to Thorin., Oral Sex, Piercings, Sexual Content, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-29
Updated: 2014-04-29
Packaged: 2018-01-21 05:48:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1539941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lettersfromzedelghem/pseuds/lettersfromzedelghem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Thorin has been away for a week due to his duties and determination to be a better king and Bilbo is happy to see him come home because he's really not cut out for nightly council meetings in his stead...and because he missed him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Uggûn

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Kat (hobbitunderthemountain) because I found the idea for Bilbo's circlet on her Tumblr and that started this whole ordeal.

Throughout the course of his life, Bilbo Baggins had become many things. He had become an adventurer through some meddling from a wizard and a ragtag company of dwarves, and an above average swordsman by hobbit standards, and an expert at sneaking about undetected, and one of few who had taunted a dragon without being incinerated immediately afterward. More surprising still, he had become the target of odd, standoffish, but welcome affection from a stubborn dwarf king during the aforementioned adventure. That one certainly hadn't been hinted at in the contract for his services as a burglar.

He had also succeeded in becoming the target of said king's wrath through his own grave miscalculations, and then laments and pleads for forgiveness when he was a seriously wounded hobbit after the great battle for Erebor. Which he had given, in time, for Bilbo Baggins had not become cruel, or hateful, nor had he turned into a bitter hobbit who saw no good in anyone.

Intended, and then consort, of Thorin Oakenshield followed that. He was a hobbit of two worlds, then, and while he sometimes struggled to balance everything, he had overall flourished beneath the responsibilities that being a wealthy hobbit of the Shire and a consort to a dwarf of royal blood brought him. Not that he did not occasionally make himself scarce for a day or two to have time for reading or writing. Thorin never begrudged him for it.

Unfortunately for Bilbo Baggins, he had never managed to become a master at conversing, or even feigning attention, when the subject simply did not interest him. This happened quite frequently during council meetings in the mountain. Particularly when he was surrounded by dwarves but his own dwarf was absent, as the case had been all week long. Thorin sometimes asked him to sit in on meetings, with Balin, so that he had two pairs of eyes and ears to inform him of problems in his absence.

Bilbo was not overly fond of being stuffed into a stone room with uncomfortable stone chairs and several temperamental dwarves. They always stoked the fire in the hearth too much and refused to leave the door open. Bilbo had already discreetly shrugged off the fur wrap from his shoulders, and was toying with the idea of doing the same with the heavy coat he had been given.

 _It's no wonder why they're always so cranky. We're all being slow roasted in this blasted room!_ Bilbo thought with an inward stomp of his foot.

Indeed, at the moment Bilbo was listening to a squabble between Yefa and Rör, two dwarves from the Blue Mountains who had come with a special envoy some weeks ago. Yefa was black in hair and beard, and had tattoos from his knuckles to his neck. Rör was nearly white in hair and beard despite his young age, in dwarf terms. His ears sported no less than twelve silver rings a piece. Bilbo had mused about that for a while, wondering how uncomfortable it was to sleep with them digging into a pillow. The two were currently riled up over differing opinions on how large of a standing army Erebor should have. Rör thought a large army would be beneficial and Yefa insisted that a massive army was too expensive to be practical. It was a more reasonable argument than the last. An hour before this, Rör had wanted chamomile tea brought to the meeting chamber and Yefa had wanted black. Neither had considered that they might have a servant bring two pots of tea to satisfy them both until Bilbo had timidly interjected the idea amidst their raised voices.

At Bilbo's side, Balin was listening to the pair with his eyes slowly narrowing in annoyance. The other four dwarves in the room, two blond and two of red hair, were also looking quite tired of listening to the spat. Bilbo cast his eyes upward to the furthest, shadowy corners of the vaulted ceiling and wondered if Thorin's meetings with Bard had gone any better. He would find out soon enough. The king was likely already on his way back to the mountain from the new Laketown.

Rör and Yefa springing to their feet and jabbing fingers at each other from across the marble table jerked Bilbo back to the present. Yefa looked about ready to clamber right up onto the table and Rör was brandishing his cup as though he might club someone with it. Bilbo looked at Balin in alarm, and the old dwarf sighed and stood up.

“Enough! Sit down, the pair of you! Neither of you have any business telling a kingdom what to do with its army, silk merchants and smiths that you are!” Balin shouted, smacking the tabletop and giving them both a thunderous look. The dwarves looked at him mutinously but took their seats, busying themselves with making fresh cups of tea and pointedly ignoring each other. Balin shook his head slowly and took up a wrinkled parchment roll which contained subjects that were in need of discussion. Bilbo could have laughed at the broody dwarves if he hadn't been the smallest one in the room and tempers weren't already running high. Bilbo saw Balin circle _defense_ on the list, meaning a later discussion with Thorin would be in order.

“Right, then. On to the last bit of business,” Balin said in a much lighter voice, using his quill to cross off a few other lines of writing. He then glanced sideways at Bilbo and cleared his throat. “I believe that Daró had a proposal that involves your expertise, Master Baggins.”

“My...my expertise? Expertise with what?” Bilbo asked, eyebrows shooting towards his hairline. Opposite of him, Daró was seated beside Rör. He was one of the red beard dwarves, possibly the older one if Bilbo was judging correctly. His hair was braided into his beard and decorated with large, golden beads in a net-like fashion. He looked at Bilbo as if he were inspecting something novel to him and nodded.

“Aye,” he said in a jovial voice. It took Bilbo a moment to see his friendly smile through the tangle of his beard. “I 'ave heard it said that hobbits are remarkably gifted with working the earth in terms of crops. I do not suppose that applies to you, Master Baggins, by any chance?”

Bilbo was momentarily flabbergasted but recovered with as much grace as he could muster.

“Yes, we are. Or some of us are. Some of my kin are farmers and make large sums of money from it. They produce a fair portion of the wheat and corn that is traded in the west.”

Daró nodded along in approval as he said all of this. The dwarf stroked his beard when Bilbo paused and he hummed thoughtfully.

“And you? Surely you have some talent, like your kin?”

“Well, I...I do grow a garden of my own, back in the Shire. I have won several awards during the fall festivals for my tomatoes and squash, but...” Bilbo hesitated, unsure of what to say. He did not want to paint himself as a master farmer because he simply wasn't. Balin seemed to understand his dilemma. He patted Bilbo on the back and looked at Daró with a grin.

“I think what Daró is trying to ask you, laddie, is if you have an understanding of what makes an area of ground fertile for growing.”

“Of course I do,” Bilbo said quickly, giving Daró a nervous smile. “I can help you with that, yes.”

“Well, that's good to hear! I will need to speak more with the king about the matter, of course, but I think with you around he'll hardly be opposed.”

“Opposed to what?”

“Why, using some of the land around the mountain for planting, of course,” Daró said with great enthusiasm. “No sense in letting it sit about full of rocks and weeds. If we can utilize it, we should. Make Erebor a bit more self-sustaining.”

Bilbo was glad that they were talking about something relevant to him, and he did think it was a decent proposal.

“I think it would be wise and I am sure Thorin will believe the same. I can mention it to him for you when he returns,” Bilbo said. The dwarves looked pleased at his offer and turned to murmur amongst themselves, save for Rör and Yefa.

Balin called an end to the meeting after that on account of a servant arriving to announce it was time for supper. The dwarves dispersed quickly, eager to get to their meal or to return to their crafting. Bilbo paused to gather up his shed over-clothes and then walked with Balin through the quiet corridors, upward towards the battlements. The faint whistling of wind outside met his ears as they walked. The hobbit turned his head and raised his brows, meeting Balin's equally tired expression.

“That went well. I suppose.”

“It's not a council meeting until at least one family name is cursed for the rest of time,” Balin sighed with wry amusement. “They'll be over it by tomorrow. I am glad you were there to end it on a high note.”

Bilbo laughed slightly and settled the fur back onto his shoulders, fastening it in the front just before they stepped out onto the battlements. The wind was partially blocked by the stone structure, but the initial blast of air was still brisk enough to make Bilbo's eyes water.

“They'll be heading home, by now,” Balin said. Bilbo turned to see him staring out into the night, towards the Long Lake. “I hope he behaved himself.”

“I don't believe Lady Dís would permit otherwise in her presence,” Bilbo chuckled, and he stuck his hand into one deep pocket and withdrew his pipe and a small tin of pipeweed. The dwarf at his side smiled and nodded, and then another big gust of air blew his beard back into his face. He grunted and frowned, patting the white hair back down and shaking his head.

“I think I'll be going in, now. Can't have the wind tying knots in my beard. Enjoy the rest of your evening, Bilbo,” he spoke with a courteous bow, and Bilbo smiled and nodded.

“Good night, Balin,” Bilbo called after him, and then went about lighting his pipe. As he put it to his lips and puffed a few times, he stared at the thin, glimmering line of the lake and echoed Balin's hopes that Dís had succeed in keeping her brother civil.

The Lady Dís had arrived two months before with a caravan of dwarves from the Blue Mountains. It was the same that had brought Rör and Yefa, and the last to make the journey before winter. She had not relayed her intention to visit in any of her letters to her sons, or to Thorin for that matter. Her presence only became known during the customary receiving ceremony, when Thorin opened the throne room to welcome home dwarven families of old and new. Bilbo had attended, as was his right as consort, and had stood beside the throne with Fíli and Kíli for company. It had been a long ceremony. The line of bearded, armored individuals had seemed endless. Thorin had endured with a warm demeanor, and at the time Bilbo suspected that his heart was in his throat at the sight of so many returning to his kingdom.

The final dwarf had worn a plain, gray, hooded traveling cloak, but even Bilbo had seen the finely crafted, midnight blue and silver-stitched gown beneath it. A lady, Bilbo had mused when he caught a glimpse of an ax strapped around her hips, of some fighting skill as well as importance. Thick braids and curls of hair, black and sleek as obsidian with silver threads woven into it all, tumbled out from under the hood that obscured the upper half of the newcomer's face. They stopped a respectful distance from the throne, hands clasped as they seemed to survey the floor in thought.

“Name yourself or your family.” Thorin had spoken genially, a curious expression taking over his face. He had given both nephews and Bilbo a glance to gauge their own reactions. “You are home, now. Do not feel unwelcome.”

“I did not come with my family. We were separated by great tragedy and I am still looking for them. My name...” A commanding voice, sweet in tone but rough at the edges just as the king's was, had filled the silence. The dwarf had then brought one broad hand up and pushed the hood back, and Bilbo had been struck dumb with the familiarity of her features, high cheekbones and sharp lips, though more refined with a sloping nose similar to Fíli's, despite her being a stranger. Her eyes had gleamed blue under the golden torchlight, boldly finding Thorin's. The dark ink beside her eyes, tattooed into small runes and geometric patterns, shocked the hobbit to see.

“I am Dís of the line of Durin. Daughter of Thrain, granddaughter of Thror, sister of Thorin Oakenshield and the late Frerin. Mother to the heirs of the line of Durin, Fíli and Kíli,” she had paused there to bow her head at last to the throne and then again to the brothers who had both clutched at each other's sleeves to keep upright. “Former princess of Erebor and now Queen of the kingdom beneath the Blue Mountains.”

She had grinned, then, stroked the braided and beaded beard hanging from her chin, and laughed loudly as Kíli had rushed to her with a wild cry. Fíli had been right on his heels, and when Dís had them both in her arms she kissed their cheeks and stroked their hair and boxed their ears gently for worrying her to death. The dwarves who had stayed to watch the ceremony laughed, and clapped their delight to see the reunion, and Bilbo had taken the moment to look to Thorin again. His eyes had grown wide and slightly wet, and then he had stood and rushed, somewhat gracefully, to his sister and her sons. They had all clung to one another and if there were tears shed, not a soul had said a word.

“A feast!” Thorin had boomed once he had finished embracing his sibling, and Bilbo had smiled so widely that it hurt. To see the joy on his dwarf's face after so much grief...Bilbo knew that Dís had inadvertently done him a great favor with her arrival. “I demand a feast this evening. My sister has returned home and we will celebrate and thank Mahal for our good fortune!”

And that had set the tone for the rest of that day, and for three days after. Bilbo had not been quite so drunk before in his life, and he got to know Dís very well throughout the festivities.

Bilbo had quickly grown very fond of Dís. He often took afternoon tea with her when Thorin could not sneak away from his duties. Dís had also shown Bilbo the finer points of silversmithing and gem cutting. She then crafted him a new set of soup spoons as a late wedding gift. She was well learned of many thing outside of dwarven culture and unerringly patient and kind. Bilbo had witnessed her temper, though. She had sent several dwarves scurrying from a meeting room while she bellowed at Thorin for being difficult over meeting with an envoy of Mirkwood elves. Her voice sounded as though it would simply cease to be from the strain as she roared in a violent mix of Westron and Khuzdul, loud enough to rival the dragon that had once inhabited the mountain. Thorin had slunk out of the room once silence had fallen with his ears bright red and shoulders hunched, as though he'd been wounded. Bilbo had sought her out later and they'd laughed together over the entire thing. Thorin had later confessed that he had not been so frightened of a dwarrowdam in decades. But Dís sought him later that same day, at supper, and kissed the top of his head as she moved to take her seat beside Bilbo.

She loved her brother and her sons fiercely. It was to no one's surprise that she had declared that she would travel into Laketown with them for the week. Fíli and Kíli were delighted to have her along. They had been trailing along after her like ducklings for weeks anyway. Making up for lost time, Bilbo thought to himself as he stuffed his pipe once more and lit it. It was just as well that she had accompanied them. Dís was shrewd and gifted with debate and negotiation. Like her mother, Thorin had said to him once after they had listened to her have a friendly verbal sparring match with Balin. Her presence would keep the tentative peace between Thorin and Bard while they talked. Hopefully.

The chill wind swept away the tendrils of pipeweed smoke as soon as they slipped out of Bilbo's mouth. He hummed idly, and took a seat on a low edge of the battlement, tugging the thick wolf fur around his shoulders a bit closer to his neck. The silver circlet on his head had become bitingly cold where it dipped behind his ears. He kept it on all the same. Thorin had crafted it himself for weeks in secret, shaping thin strands of silver into oak leaves and acorns and encrusting it all with the purest diamonds that he could mine. It was his own touch added to Bilbo's love of nature, he had explained bashfully after presenting the gift at their official wedding ceremony. Thorin always beamed to see Bilbo wearing it, great, soppy dwarf that he was. If the trip had been for naught, Thorin would return home in sour spirits, and would need all the reason to smile that he could get.

Bilbo exhaled another large puff of smoke and glanced sideways at a silent, burly dwarf with a brilliantly red, gray streaked beard that stood watch just down the battlement. He inwardly winced as his smoke cloud drifted over the guard's face. The dwarf did not react but Bilbo discreetly finished his pipe and tucked it away all the same. He looked over the top of the stone edge, then, and followed the pale, snaking line of the road that led from the gates of Erebor to where it wound up and over a far mountainside. The Long Lake shimmered faintly in the distance beneath the light of the crescent moon overhead.

A speck of orange light popped up over the ridge of the mountain, then. Another followed, until there were three moving along in a line at a steady pace. Bilbo clambered up onto his knees upon the ledge and peered outward, his stomach flip-flopping pleasantly. Torches. They had returned at last.

He hopped down, then, and hurried over to a torch burning just within the doorway that led back inside the mountain. Lifting it from its resting place, Bilbo began lighting torches along the battlement. There were seven, in total, for the stars of the Crown of Durin. It had been Bilbo's idea. Thorin sometimes returned from his travels to Laketown at night and the hobbit felt he should be able to do something to acknowledge his return. Once they were all lit, Bilbo replaced the first torch and raced back inside. He had a king to welcome home.

\---

The first snow of the season had not fallen yet, but Thorin's ears were a tad numb all the same from the cold air, which was chilled even more is it blew in across the icy lake. He tugged his heavy furs closer about his neck and sighed. The pony beneath him huffed great breaths that sent plumes of steam out of its nostrils as they ascended the final slope before they reached the valley where Erebor sat. Thorin rubbed his hand over the beast's fuzzy neck, ridding its black hair of a thin layer of frost.

Fíli and Kíli were discussing plans to forge new swords and craft arrows as they rode along behind him, and at his left side was Dís. She had a long pipe between her lips, clasping the bowl of it to warm her hands as she puffed away and stared ahead absently. Dwalin was on his right, clutching one of the torches to light the path in the shadows of the mountain, quiet and apparently unmindful of the cold. The large ax strapped to his back had a frosty layer upon it, too.

Thorin could scarcely wait to be back in Erebor. Laketown was no place for a king...or much of anyone else, in his opinion. It was cold, and damp, and the wood of many buildings had begun to rot despite being newly made, and everything smelled strongly of dead fish. While he could recall the memory of being stuck in a barrel of fish with some amusement now, it did little to sway his feelings toward the town on the water. The only good to come of his travels there, aside from reveling in the sight of Smaug's remains, were the meetings with Bard, and even those were tense.

As the new leader of the people of Laketown, or the new beginnings of Laketown after the battle, and someone who Thorin had seriously wronged in his madness, Bard was not shy about making demands to ensure his people had a better quality of life. Erebor had been sending food, supplies to build homes and boats, and fabric for clothing to the town, after a council meeting that involved much yelling by Bard and embarrassed, miserable agreement from a still-healing Thorin. He wasn't happy about being cowed by the, to quote Dwalin, _lippy lakeman_ , but it had been necessary at the time. Five years on, though, and Thorin believed there was a better way to ensure the prosperity of Bard and his people. One that did not involve a half-day of travel to a mildly disgusting place that would need constant repair and yielded little profit in return.

“Bilbo has excellent taste,” Dís broke through Thorin's musings about the results of the week-long negotiations. She brandished her pipe towards her brother in emphasis. “I traded him a book of poetry for some of his pipeweed and it is lovely. When I go back to the Blue Mountains I will have to set up a trade agreement for it with the Hobbits.”

“Aye,” Dwalin's rough voice cut it. “The Shire has many things that catch a dwarf's attention, it seems.”

“Aye,” the brothers at the back of the group chimed in, and Thorin wheeled in his saddle to see them grinning from ear to ear.

“Lots of things,” Fíli began.

“Soft things,” Kíli finished with a slight leer to his voice. The pair looked at each other and smirked. Thorin sorely wished he could reach back and give them both a smack on their heads.

Dís laughed, with her head thrown back and puffs of smoke escaping her mouth and out of her nostrils. Her sons echoed her amusement and made some rather suggestive noises towards their uncle. Thorin turned back around, then, and scowled at his supposed best friend. Dwalin did not so much as acknowledge that he'd said anything at the king's expense. He simply spurred his pony on a little faster, though Thorin saw the corners of his eyes crinkle as he went.

They finally broke over the ridge of the mountain and began to descend. Their ponies whinnied in excitement and broke into a trot along the path, eager to be put away in their warm stalls for the evening. Thorin looked past the bulky shape of Dwalin and gazed upon the mountain, and a broad smile overtook his lips at the sight of the first of seven torches being lit in his honor.

“Mad hobbit,” he mumbled fondly to himself, a strong tug in his chest at the thought of his consort running about Erebor in last-minute preparation for his return home. He had heard all about it from Balin. He watched until the last torch was lit and then turned to Dís, intending to explain the ritual, but the cheeky grin on her face made him harrumph.

“He is good for you,” she said kindly, guiding her pony closer to her brother. Their steeds nuzzled their noses together as they trod on. “He will keep you from losing yourself. You are blessed by Mahal to have him.”

“I am. I nearly lost him.”

“Nearly, yes,” she agreed, puffing away on the pipe again. “But not quite. He nearly lost you as well. We all did. You have scarcely been alone in your suffering.”

Thorin's brow furrowed and he shifted in the saddle uneasily. He still felt wretched about the entire ordeal, and even more wretched that, even now, he still loved his gold and longed for the Arkenstone to be returned to its former glory. In the chaos of the Battle, the stone had been lost underfoot of men, dwarves, elves, and orcs in the mud and blood until it had been shattered into fragments. It had taken weeks to find it under the numerous corpses. Balin had been in charge at the time, with Thorin still bedridden with serious wounds and only conscious for a small part of each day. The old warrior had ordered the stone to be gathered and placed into a carved, oaken box and sealed shut.

The box had been given to the king, and he had it placed upon a lone pedestal in the great hall of gold coins and gems. It was rare that he went near the box, and his mood soured quickly if he thought upon it. He could scarcely stand to look at the empty space above the throne on some days and his heart burned darkly over the loss of the stone on such occasions. Thorin did not desire its return because his right to rule without it was in question – not after Balin and advisors from all of the dwarf kingdoms had come together to state that the stone had proven to bring nothing but misery and grief upon their people and should be cast aside as a relic of a dark and bygone era – but because he was from the line of Durin. Obsession with riches of the earth was his curse to bear and it was a grim reality that nothing would ever fully free him from it. Not his love for his kin, or for his kingdom, or even Bilbo Baggins. It made him feel ill to think about and likely always would.

Dís smacked his arm lightly some long minutes later and shoved her pipe into his hand when he turned to her.

“That's enough of that. You look like you're trying to brew up a storm,” she chided. “We're nearly back and your hobbit is waiting. Go to him and share the news of our meeting and take comfort in his presence. Stop fighting wars with yourself, you big lump.”

The king raised the pipe to his lips and inhaled deeply, nodding slowly.

“Aye,” he murmured as he exhaled, looking up to the towering stone doors as they began to swing open in greeting.

\---

“No, no. Venison!” Bilbo cried in dismay at the bewildered servant who had just entered the anteroom to their bedchamber. He gestured wildly at the jeweled platter in the dwarf's grasp with one hand as he adjusted the circlet on his head with the other. The little silver crown had grown lopsided as he had darted around the mountain in search of free servants to do his bidding. “Oh, I'm sorry! I don't mean to be rude but I had ham _yesterday_. Venison, please, and cheese...and bread and oil.”

The dwarf gave him a nonplussed look, gray eyebrows rising towards her wild hair, but nodded and hurried off to remedy the mistake. Bilbo watched her go and then gasped and ran to the still open doorway to call after her about a jug of mead as well. He sighed and went back through their bedchamber and into the washing room. He had requested a bath to be drawn first thing and was glad to see that it had been done. The bathtub had been remade by Thorin after the first one was destroyed by the dragon smashing through the room at some point in time. The new one had been crafted from a massive piece of black granite that was halved and hollowed out and polished until smooth. Steam rose from it in plumes and the temperature was close enough to ideal when Bilbo tested it with his fingers; Thorin preferred baths just a tad warmer than Bilbo would have had otherwise. He attributed it to tough dwarven skin. Two large, soft cloths for drying off had been set out at the edge of the water and Bilbo was momentarily mortified at the presumption of the servants. However correct they might have been.

The servant returned with venison and the mead as he was shrugging out of the furs and winter coat. He thanked her and smiled graciously to smooth over any annoyance, and waited until she was gone to undress from his trousers and shirt and slip into the slightly frayed, patchwork robe that he had worn for years in Bag End. It was one of the first things he had grabbed to take back to Erebor on his visit back to the Shire after the battle. Thorin always regarded the robe with something akin to exasperated amusement, as Bilbo always chose to wear it over the robe in Durin blue he had been given. The hobbit wasn't at all bothered by his teasing. Even if the finery of his circlet and the well-worn robe clashed terribly.

Bilbo helped himself to a piece of bread dipped in oil, and a sliver of venison, and poured himself a goblet of mead before he took a seat beside the hearth and busied himself with stoking the low burning embers. It was always too chilly in their bedchamber after a bath. Bilbo blamed the vaulted ceiling and stone floors. He was never deterred from trying to fix that with a roaring fire, though. He used one long, iron fire poker to adjust piece after piece of wood and then, satisfied, sat back and sighed and fussed with the circlet as he drank.

He had just finished another piece of venison and taken a sip of mead when a heavy hand sounded against the door. Bilbo smiled into his drink, and he lowered the goblet and called for the newcomer to enter. When the door swung inward and Thorin's broad frame stepped through, Bilbo set his drink aside and stood at once, longing and relief sitting heavy in his chest. The dwarf looked sufficiently wind-ruffled and chilled, his nose and cheeks red, but he did not seem to be brooding as he closed the door behind himself. Orcrist was strapped upon his back and free of blood, so the trip home had apparently been uneventful.

“ _Mukhuh nami halw numûizu?_ ” Thorin asked as he carefully removed the sword and set it upon a stone ledge beside the door. He walked forward slowly as he shrugged the furs off of himself carelessly, his coat landing on the floor atop them. A series of solid thuds followed as he loosened the heavy belt around his waist and then tugged off the gambeson covered in protective metal.

Bilbo smiled at the pile of cloth, fur, and armor and nodded, already moving into the dwarf's reach. He failed to muffle a delighted noise at the warmth of Thorin's body after so many days without it. The king held Bilbo around the waist with one arm and tipped his face up with a big knuckle under his chin, kissing him softly. Bilbo's hands gripped at the blue fabric of his beloved's undershirt, sighing contently as Thorin kissed first his top lip, then the bottom, and teased his lips with teeth and tongue before kissing him fully once again. The rough scrape of his beard against the hobbit's face made the halfling chuckle and Thorin kissed him more fervently in return with a quick grin. The dwarf brought up a large hand and thumbed over one small leaf within the circlet and his approval rumbled in his chest. He then combed his fingers through Bilbo's honey-brown curls. Finally, earning a begrudging noise from the hobbit, he pulled back far enough to gaze at him. Thorin's thumbs were rough as they stroked over Bilbo's cheeks, though they gentled a bit when he touched the corners of his eyes. The hobbit hummed pleasantly at the feeling and leaned into it.

“It has been a long week without you,” Thorin confessed. His attention then shifted to the single braid beside Bilbo's left ear. His fingers toyed with the silver and polished lapis bead that symbolized their union. His gaze was unbearably soft as he studied it.

“It has. I almost wished that I'd gone along with you,” Bilbo replied, and the king snorted and planted a scratchy kiss to the other's forehead.

“Almost.”

“I've been to Laketown. Too much water, not enough garden. Bard takes no offense at my absence,” Bilbo said airily. He pulled out of Thorin's grasp and went to the platter of food and drink, taking up the mead and pouring a goblet for the dwarf. Thorin saw this and followed him, taking the offered drink and taking several swallows of it. While he did so, Bilbo took it upon himself to unlace the top of Thorin's shirt, deft fingers walking down the firm plane of his stomach to unfasten the leather belt at his hips and tug it off. Thorin raised a brow but made no move to interfere, instead finishing the mead and setting the empty goblet aside.

“Trying to bed me already? Bold hobbit.” He said it with a smirk, and Bilbo rewarded him with a pinch to one nipple through his shirt, tugging gently at the little steel bar that ran through the dwarf's flesh. Thorin grunted and swatted his hand away.

“Don't be crude,” Bilbo sighed, smiling to himself as he unfastened the button of Thorin's trousers. “I've had a bath made for us. Your hands are freezing, so we will do that before your fingers do any sort of touching, thank you.”

He ended with a delicate sniff. Thorin chuckled and stepped back to lift his now loosened shirt up and over his head, tossing it to join the discarded coat.

“Yes, my dear,” he mumbled, sitting upon the edge of the bed to tug off his boots. He set them aside with a thud and then stood to slide his trousers down and off of his legs. Bilbo, who had busied himself under the pretense of checking the fire, eyed the subtle shift and flex of muscle in the dwarf's legs and arms as he gathered all of his discarded clothes and put them aside for a servant to retrieve later.

But there was more to see than just Thorin's impressive figure. Bilbo's eyes first followed the heavy, dark lines of ink that snaked along Thorin's sides and belly, where they were slightly obscured by hair and old scars, and around onto his back and down his legs as the dwarf turned. Ancient runes and deep symbolism, he knew, but he had never pressured Thorin to explain any of it out of respect. He could also see both of the little, metal bars through Thorin's nipples, now, and he had a very impish desire to march right over and tug them until Thorin squirmed and his face flushed. It was a favorite activity of Bilbo's. A bit further down and Bilbo's gaze landed on the last bit of metal that pierced Thorin's flesh, a straight bar of steel that ran vertically through the head of his cock, leaving a ball of metal exposed on the top and bottom. The thought of what he'd like to do with _that one_ made Bilbo's ears feel suddenly very warm.

 _Perhaps later_.  He mused to himself as he turned to make his way to the bath.

“Hurry up, before it goes tepid. King or not, I shan't ask for more water for you,” Bilbo called back, making his way to the washroom. Thorin let out a dismissive humph behind him and took a moment to help himself to another goblet of mead and several pieces of venison and bread. He hummed thoughtfully, considering the goblet in hand, and then took his drink along with as he trailed after the hobbit.

Thorin accidentally tread upon Bilbo's old robe just inside of the doorway. The hobbit was already submerged in the bath, the deep tub bringing the water nearly up to his collarbones. He was at ease, though, as he reclined against the gradual slope of the granite with his eyes closed. The circlet still rested on his head, which surprised Thorin as much as it pleased him.

“Don't just stand there. In,” Bilbo said at last, a shade of coyness in his voice as he cracked an eye open, then the other, and looked Thorin up and down as he approached. He watched with a lazy gleam in his eyes as the dwarf set his drink beside the cloths and carefully stepped into the bath, settling down at the opposite end with his legs bracketing Bilbo's. Thorin regarded Bilbo fondly for a moment, running his broad palms over the hobbit's bent knees until he chuckled softly.

“I think you've enjoyed our absence. You luxuriated in it.” Thorin's accusation was warm, and teasing, and he grinned when Bilbo gazed at him evenly.

“It certainly made the idea of regicide more appealing than it was before you left. It would be lovely to have second breakfast all to myself for a change. You always take more eggs than you have a right to,” Bilbo paused and brought his hands up to rest over Thorin's own, tracing the hard bumps of his knuckles. “I'd like to have an army at my disposal the next time Lobelia tries to pilfer all of my silverware, too. I'd march the lot of them right through her garden. Destroy those blasted green beans she's always going on about.”

“Wicked creature. You may certainly borrow my army, if you wish,” Thorin murmured, leaning forward to kiss his beloved. Bilbo laughed shortly against his lips and stroked over Thorin's hair as they kissed for a long moment. His nimble fingers toyed with the heavy beads in the dwarf's hair, following his braids up to his big ears and thumbing over the curve of them. The king let out a soft groan and set his teeth upon Bilbo's lip, just hard enough to make him turn a bit red in the cheeks. Finally Bilbo pulled away, still running his fingertips over the shell of Thorin's ear.

“How did it go with Bard this time?”

“Must we discuss the bowman now? The thought of him is hardly suited for bedsport. I daresay he scowls even more than I do.”

“Don't be rude to Bard. And we are not in bed, so you have no excuse.”

“I could easily change that, if you would allow it.”

Bilbo gave Thorin an exasperated look and nudged him firmly in the stomach with a large foot. The king huffed and caught Bilbo around the ankle, reclining against stone and nodding. His fingers petted over the top of the consort's foot, rifling through the soft, thick hair that grew there.

“It went well enough. He was open to the idea of rebuilding Dale come springtime to give his people access to more work and better living conditions. He desires to have Laketown remain as a fishing port and route of trade with...the Elves. They are of some use to him, apparently,” Thorin finished sourly, rubbing the pad of his thumb over the bone of Bilbo's ankle. “He is sure that we will betray him. He asked questions relentlessly for days, looking for my true intentions.”

“And I'm certain that you did nothing to provoke that reaction.”

Thorin simply shrugged. He did not seem incredibly sorry for any transgression on his part where the bowman's feelings were concerned. Thorin's political tactics were fair, if lacking in social niceties.

“Remind me to thank Dís a thousand times for going with you, then," Bilbo sighed. “Perhaps the rest of my pipeweed will do.”

"I do not desire to betray the people of Laketown. I would not seek conflict and weaken whatever strength and respect my kingdom has now. I would...see my name restored. I am not their king but I would see a new future for them after my mistakes. If...the sickness will let me. I do try," Thorin finished quietly, and Bilbo felt a sharp pang of sympathy. It never gave him a sense of satisfaction to see the other so cowed and haunted by the past. He was not so vindictive as that.

"Oh, Thorin. I know," Bilbo replied gently. "I believe you. I believe _in_ you. I am proud of your accomplishments with Bard and I know it will go just as you plan it to."

Thorin's somber expression eased marginally, and he gripped Bilbo gently by the arms and drew him forward until the hobbit was upon his lap. His hands ran up and down Bilbo's spine, kneading his shoulders and back with large but deft fingers. The consort smiled and made a noise of approval and ran the pad of his thumb over the last doubtful crease between Thorin's brows until it was smoothed away. Then he kissed him, tenderly, and ran his fingers through the dark, coarse hair on Thorin's chest and down onto his belly beneath the water. His touch found one of many knotted lines and bumps of scars from the great battle, given from arrow and sword and spear. Bilbo stroked them all slowly, from belly to chest and along his sides.

“I don't want to talk about any of that unpleasantness, now,” Bilbo said, dragging the blunt edges of his fingernails over an unmarred spot upon Thorin's hip. “It really is unfit for bedsport.”

“What shall we talk about, if not that?” Thorin sounded a little breathless, then, and far more pleasing to Bilbo's ears. The hobbit hummed and hawed for a minute, all while he settled a little more firmly upon Thorin's lap and gave one long roll of his hips.

“Well,” Bilbo began, leaning in to brush his mouth along the prominence of the other's collarbones, chasing the faint flush of the dwarf's skin with his lips, “perhaps you should start with how many times you brought yourself pleasure while you thought of me.”

He finished his thought by slipping a hand down into the water, palming over Thorin's cock where it was pressed, half hard and wonderfully thick, against the inside of Bilbo's thigh. His thumb landed just beneath the head of the other's length and rubbed a circle there, slowly pushing back foreskin and curling his fingers around Thorin and stroking once. The feeling of him in hand, impossibly soft skin and heat that had nothing to do with the bath water, made Bilbo squirm a little with anticipation and heave a sigh. Thorin rumbled low in his throat in reply and slid his hands up and down the other's sides, absently, as he leaned his head back against the edge of the tub.

“Every evening, when I had time to myself to think...” Thorin murmured, licking his lips and groaning softly as Bilbo's touch slowly worked him to full hardness. His eyes were lidded heavily, like a great, lazy cat, and his hips twitched upward with every downward stroke of Bilbo's hand.

Bilbo smiled and ducked his head lower, tongue brushing over the left piercing on Thorin's chest. He tugged the bit of metal between his teeth, and Thorin grunted and shoved his hips up more insistently. The brush of a thumb over the head of his cock, catching the top metal ball protruding from his flesh, ended Thorin's bucking as he was reduced to breathless quivering. The red flush that crept up his neck and towards his ears delighted Bilbo to see.

“Time to think about what?” His voice was light and conversational, and Thorin could hardly stand the tone of it given the fact that Bilbo was still thumbing the metal on either side of his erection between slow strokes of his hand.

“You,” Thorin muttered towards the ceiling, panting softly. His eyes were finally shut and his teeth worried his lip as he seemed to search for the thoughts that Bilbo was swiftly interrupting with quickened movements of his hand. “I thought of pleasing you with my mouth, and the noises that you make even when you try so hard to be silent...I wanted you there, with me, so that I might have had you on my lap, riding me. The way you look while you're atop me boils my blood. I craved your warmth and I...needed you to lay claim to me. My fierce hobbit–”

Bilbo cut off the tumbling words with a bruising kiss, for his own cheeks were as hot as Thorin's and he was suddenly very unsatisfied with the small space that the bath provided. The hitch in the dwarf's quickened breath as they kissed made Bilbo's stomach flutter wildly. He released his hold on Thorin and slid his hands up the other's heaving chest, rubbing the strong slope of his shoulders with a suggestive hum. The dwarf understood at once and he quickly slid his arms around Bilbo, muttering a command for the other to hold him around the neck before he stood upright. Bilbo squawked in protest and Thorin, flustered though he was, laughed and silenced his consort with a kiss.

“You are truly terrible,” Thorin whispered hotly as he stepped out of the bath. He set the other down and squeezed his ass firmly, tucking his face into the crook of Bilbo's neck as he did. His mouth pressed deep, biting kisses along the other's throat. Bilbo whimpered and grasped at Thorin's hair, canting his hips forward and shivering at the brush of his own arousal against the dwarf's thigh.

“Oh, for goodness sake!” Bilbo finally cried out when his legs were threatening to send him toppling to the floor and he'd rutted against Thorin mindlessly for a few minutes. He tugged Thorin's hair and the king growled into the juncture of Bilbo's neck and shoulder. “Stop trying to devour me and take me to bed, you great – oh!”

Thorin hoisting Bilbo up and over his shoulder made the hobbit protest again, mainly due to the fact that his naked bottom was on full display as he was toted into the bedchamber. Thorin's shoulder shook with laughter beneath him. When he landed upon his back upon the thick bear and wolf furs atop the bed, the dwarf was grinning down at him.

“Hardly appropriate behavior for a king,” Bilbo said breathlessly. Thorin hummed gravely, though his eyes were bright with joy and admiration as he stepped in between the other's thighs and ran a palm over Bilbo's soft, smooth stomach.

“Appropriate enough for a dwarf who has sorely missed his One, though,” he replied easily, leaning down to catch Bilbo's lips with his own. The pad of his thumb dipped into the little hollow of Bilbo's navel and the hobbit squirmed with a keening sound. Thorin's other hand gently grasped the circlet now nearly toppling off of Bilbo's head and tossed it onto his discarded clothes. His fingers slid into the hobbit's curls and gripped gently as he kissed Bilbo more fervently, licking into his mouth. Thorin's hand upon Bilbo's stomach slowly wandered lower, fingers dragging through the little patch of coarse curls before gripping Bilbo's cock. The hobbit's hips stuttered upward at the sudden pressure around him and he let out a soft moan against Thorin's lips. Thorin briefly released his cock and his hand dipped lower, cradling the soft sac beneath Bilbo's length and giving it a gentle squeeze. Bilbo squirmed fitfully and arched his hips, and then huffed when Thorin pressed them back down to the bed with a low chuckle.

Bilbo broke their feverish kissing and tried to gather his wits enough to speak but Thorin seemed to have another idea. He shifted Bilbo back into the center of the large bed and crawled up onto it as well, and eased his legs apart before settling between them upon his belly. The scratch of his beard along with the soft heat of his mouth as he pressed kisses against the insides of Bilbo's thighs made the other quiver and gasp.

“I would hear pleasure in your voice. I have been horribly deprived,” Thorin whispered roughly, hand finding Bilbo's cock again and stroking him from base to tip. Bilbo propped himself up on wobbly elbows and looked down at the dwarf, worrying his lip between his teeth and nodding quickly. He watched Thorin mouth his way up to the juncture of hip and thigh, nuzzle the tender skin there, and bite down gently. The roughness of his palm made heat throb in Bilbo's groin and he found himself suddenly, pleasantly, out of breath.

“Yes...yes, of course – oh, my...” The longing that he'd felt during the week of Thorin's absence was finally quelled as the dwarf gave him one languid lick along the underside of his length. Thorin then closed his lips around the head of Bilbo's cock and sucked lazily, tonguing at the fluid beading at the tip of him before taking him in further. The heat in his eyes as he gazed upward made Bilbo whimper and reach down boldly, stroking over the wide fan of Thorin's hair as it spilled over the dwarf's shoulders. The powerful dip and roll of Thorin's back and shoulder muscles and he worked his mouth along the other's length caused another wave of heat to wash over him from head to toe. Bilbo's head lolled back a little as the wet warmth around him moved upward and then down again, and again, as Thorin's head bobbed with increasing speed.

From his place between Bilbo's legs, Thorin could see that the halfling had turned a deep shade of pink from his chest to the delicate points of his ears. He felt the little tremors within the hobbit's thighs on either side of him, and felt the upward curl of Bilbo's hips as he sought more of Thorin's mouth every time he pulled away. The hobbit's feet and toes curled and flexed fitfully against his sides, and Thorin was delighted at the restlessness that had taken over the other. Pressing his tongue firmly against hard flesh and sucking more eagerly, Thorin slid a hand up Bilbo's chest and thumbed over the corner of his lips. His other forearm came to rest across Bilbo's hips, pinning them in place as he sucked and licked at him. The hobbit let out a particularly reedy noise at being held in place looked downward again.

“Your mouth...” Bilbo gasped, promptly losing the rest of his thought at a pointed suck that left him gasping and Thorin rumbling his pleasure and amusement. The hobbit responded by sucking at Thorin's fingers, holding his gaze heatedly as he tongued and bit at each digit, until Thorin's hips were grinding his own erection against the soft furs under them. Bilbo's hand found one of the long braids in Thorin's hair and tugged fitfully, winding the dark hair around his fist. Beneath Thorin's arm, the tension in Bilbo's body was beginning to rise, his hips pushing ineffectually against the dwarf's strength. Finally overwhelmed, the halfling released the king's fingers from his lips with a fitful whimper.

“Thorin!” Bilbo's voice was pitched high, face nuzzled against the curve of Thorin's palm now pressed to his cheek. The king raised his eyes again, as they'd finally fallen shut in contentment as he'd listened to Bilbo's sighs and moans. Bilbo's frantic gaze and the shudders wracking his small frame served to fuel the heat sitting low in Thorin's belly. Slowly, dragging his tongue up Bilbo's cock one last time, Thorin released the hobbit from his mouth and bent his head to kiss the podgy curve of his stomach. Bilbo's hold on his braid loosened and he ran his fingers through the dwarf's thick hair as he took several deep, steadying breaths.

“How fortunate I must be to have such a lover,” Thorin mused against Bilbo's stomach, nuzzling his mouth and nose against his skin as he crawled up until he was level with the hobbit's face. “One who sings like a sparrow in the springtime under my touch.”

“Oh, you hush. Silly old dwarf,” Bilbo breathed out, feeling squirmy all over again at the words. He brought up a hand to thumb over the slightly puffy, slick curve of Thorin's lips and stole a kiss from him. He felt Thorin's arousal pressed into his hip and raised his pelvis up a little, smiling at the soft grunt it earned him as Thorin's head thudded to rest upon his chest. Nudging his little nose against the dwarf's temple, Bilbo ran his hands along the taunt muscles in Thorin's back when the king looked up at him. “I believe you said something about me staking a claim.”

Thorin's mouth twitched into a grin against Bilbo's chest and he nodded before he rolled off of the hobbit and settled onto his back. He palmed over Bilbo's side with an appreciative hum and pulled him closer to better touch, stroking the few scars that Bilbo had accumulated during his adventures. A nick here, and a scratch there, the biggest of them all a long, gnarled line that ran from his side to mid back. The product of a swipe from a crude Orc blade. Thorin rested his hand upon it as Bilbo moved to lean over him, covering most of the scar with his palm and pushing it from his mind by pulling Bilbo down for a kiss. He was denied a deeper kiss by Bilbo as he pulled himself away and reached up over their pillows and into a carved out hollow within the stone wall. Candles sat within it, safely out of their way, along with a little box crafted out of wood. Thorin had tipped his head back to see what Bilbo was doing and smiled when he saw the box lid lift and a phial of oil, pale gold in color, being taken out. The hobbit set the phial onto a pillow within their reach and laughed softly at Thorin's eager expression.

Bilbo then took the initiative and clambered astride Thorin's hips, kissing him again as he rocked against the king. One hand sought Thorin's where it rested on the bed and boldly pressed it down between his splayed thighs. A low rumble of delight sounded in Thorin's throat and he took both of their erections in hand, squeezing just so until Bilbo quivered.

“Just like that,” Bilbo sighed, pinning Thorin's other hand over his head and pressing fleeting kisses to his mouth while he rolled his hips forward into the firm hold around him.

“Greedy,” Thorin playfully admonished between kisses. Bilbo hummed in a manner that sounded suspiciously proud and plucked at one of the steel bars on Thorin's chest. The king grunted and arched his hips, grinding their erections together and causing them both to shudder and moan. Thorin's hand freed itself from Bilbo's hold and reached to grasp Bilbo's ass firmly, making the hobbit squirm against him. While he used his other hand to rub the sensitive head of Bilbo's cock, Thorin slid his middle finger between Bilbo's cheeks and gently stroked over the tight ring of his entrance.

The effect was immediate and exactly what he'd hoped for. Bilbo quivered and his hips jerked, a bead of fluid welling at the head of of cock. He let out a whimper and bit his lip, ducking his face to gasp and hide his lax, delighted expression. Thorin continued to rub a soft circle against the muscle, not trying to press in yet without oil. He simply sought to tease his consort for a moment. His skin felt hot and his chest heaved a little as he watched Bilbo try and fail to contain himself under his stroking.

“I could take you with my tongue, first. Pin you onto the bed upon your belly and lick you until you wail and beg for me,” Thorin rasped, slowing his hand that still stroked their cocks until Bilbo was left squirming and looking for more sensation. “You are so sensitive, there...”

“Thorin, please...it has been a long week.”

“And?”

“And–” Bilbo gasped, jerking his hips as Thorin removed his hand, pushed his hips up and ground his cock over Bilbo's entrance. The hobbit keened and braced himself against Thorin's chest, panting a little. “And I have not been properly filled since you left!”

“You have tried in my absence,” Thorin whispered, knowingly. “What a sight you must have made.”

The hobbit atop him blushed and licked his lips but made no attempt to deny it. If anything he looked faintly pleased with himself. The king grinned wickedly at him. Bilbo huffed in response and still had the wits to roll his eyes, but he pressed back against Thorin's erection once more. Turning his head a little, Thorin found the phial and grabbed it, working the stopper out of the top and moving to sit upright. While he did so, Bilbo scooted forward until his chest was flush with Thorin's, and he waited with only a little fidgeting while the dwarf slicked three of his fingers with the oil. Bilbo was sure to cap the phial again, lest they spill the rest of the oil. Thorin held his fingers up for inspection and Bilbo nodded with a fleeting smile, and kissed Thorin soundly when he felt the same fingers slide between his cheeks.

The initial press of a finger was always strange, especially given the thickness of Thorin's fingers compared to his own. Bilbo simply breathed through it and nuzzled against the dwarf's bearded jaw line, letting out a soft squeak when Thorin gave his finger a slight curl. A hand came to rest on the back of Bilbo's neck, stroking gently while Thorin let the hobbit rock against his hand to accustom himself to the penetration. Only after Bilbo nosed against his cheek and murmured a plea for more did Thorin work a second finger in. The tight heat around his fingers made him shiver and take a deep breath to steady himself and his patience. Not that he had long to wait. Bilbo, in true fashion for a hobbit, was already greedily soaking up the feeling of Thorin within him, flushed up to his ears and biting his lip as he squirmed and clenched around the other's fingers.

“Oh! Oh, you are...just...brilliant at that – oh, Thorin,” Bilbo stuttered out, voice cracking into a moan as Thorin curled his fingers firmly and spread them apart. The hobbit kissed Thorin and nibbled his lip, keening pleasantly as he worked himself down onto the dwarf's hand with increasing vigor. “So happy you're home.”

The corner of Thorin's lips twitched upward in amusement at the sheer delight in Bilbo's voice. He stroked his free hand down the consort's spine and settled it onto the curve of his lower back. Steadying the halfling and catching his mouth with his own, Thorin rubbed the third finger against the slick, stretched edge of muscle. A quivery moan met his ears and Bilbo's hands found their way into his hair as he leaned his forehead against the dwarf's shoulder. The hobbit tugged at his braids and his breath caught in his throat as Thorin finally pressed the last finger into him.

“Yes?” Thorin asked as he pressed his mouth against Bilbo's ruddy cheek. He shifted his fingers carefully and let the hobbit move on his own accord onto them. For a moment the room was quiet, only the sounds of ragged breath and slick oil on flesh and wood crackling in the hearth filling the air.

“Yes,” Bilbo finally breathed out. Then he quivered and let out a tremulous laugh. “You and your absurdly large hands.”

“You and your absurdly tight–” Bilbo shushed him and kissed him firmly to end his undoubtedly lewd statement there. The king grinned against his mouth, sucking and nibbling at Bilbo's lower lip while the hobbit gradually worked his way back to the fevered rocking and grinding of his hips. One particularly hard jerk of his hips, coupled with a quick crook of Thorin's fingers, left him crying out and pulling Thorin's braids hard enough to make the dwarf growl. The muscle that Thorin had stretched abruptly clenched around his fingers and his cock throbbed as he thought of being within his consort. Bilbo repeated the move and his body was wracked with shudders, and he whimpered as though torn between pulling himself away from Thorin's hand and wanting to keep himself there until morning. He nudged his nose against Thorin's and mumbled another plea, hips wriggling and his hard, flushed cock pressing against Thorin's belly.

“Aye,” Thorin whispered hotly, and he rubbed Bilbo's back as he eased his fingers from within him.

Bilbo sighed and ruffled his fingers through the coarse hair along Thorin's jaw and then he reached for the phial that had partially rolled beneath the dwarf's thigh amidst their shifting about. He opened it quickly and cupped his palm, pouring out a generous amount of oil. Thorin was sensible enough to close the phial this time and he tossed it aside carelessly, eyes fixed upon Bilbo's hands as they moved down between their bodies and closed around his cock. The warmth of the oil and Bilbo's skin, and the surprising strength of his grasp, made Thorin's belly tighten and his chest heave. His eyes fluttered shut and he let out a throaty groan, collapsing partially until he was braced upon his elbows. Bilbo smiled to himself. He was quick but thorough about spreading the oil over Thorin's length, taking a moment to toy with the metal piercing his flesh until it gleamed under the firelight. He brought his other hand down and cupped the delicate sac beneath Thorin's cock, squeezing softly and rubbing his fingertips against the tender skin. Thorin's thighs trembled and his toes curled at the touch.

A strangled noise made Bilbo look up from his task. The king was gripping at the furs tight enough to turn his knuckles white, head thrown back and jaw clenched. His eyes were closed tightly. Bilbo squeezed his cock, once, and Thorin's hips surged up into the tight ring of his fingers.

“You would torture...torture me in such a way,” Thorin groaned. Bilbo pushed him down flat against the bed with both hands against his chest and Thorin's breath huffed out of him. The hobbit smiled and rifled his fingers through the dark hair on the dwarf's chest.

“I certainly would,” Bilbo whispered, reaching to grasp Thorin's cock and tap the bottom of the piercing with his thumb. Thorin tried to glower at him but the effect was lost as he quivered and gasped. His consort smiled and leaned forward slightly, bracing himself against the king's broad chest, and began the long press of guiding Thorin into his body. “I...I do so appreciate how you respond.”

A choked sound, dangerously close to a whine, sounded in Thorin's throat as the head of him slid past the tight ring of muscle. He turned his head to press his cheek to the pelts and took a few deep breaths, hands gripping at Bilbo's splayed thighs and kneading the muscle there restlessly. Bilbo watched him as he continued the slow downward press of his hips, biting his lip but resisting the desire to close his eyes. Thorin rasped something under his breath, in Westron or Khuzdul, Bilbo was not sure. The sight of quivering muscles in Thorin's belly made up for the lack of understanding. Bilbo stroked his hands along Thorin's sides as he settled down fully onto his cock, thumbing the steel bars on his chest and leaning in to press a soft kiss to the corner of his lips. Thorin turned his head at once and brushed his mouth against Bilbo's, hands moving from the hobbit's thighs to his hips and holding firmly.

“Do you need a moment, my dear?” Bilbo asked, and despite being breathless his voice was dripping with amusement and triumph at nearly undoing the dwarf king so soon. Thorin grunted and curled his hips up powerfully in retaliation, and Bilbo let out a sharp cry. He clenched around the thick length within him and shuddered, fingers curling against Thorin's chest as he lifted himself a few inches and sank back down. They both gasped, that time, and Thorin bent his knees up to better keep Bilbo on his lap.

“Ride,” Thorin murmured commandingly, gazing up at Bilbo with heavily lidded eyes.

Picking up a slow, grinding rhythm with his hips, Bilbo sighed contently and leaned his head back. The heaviness of Thorin's hands on his hips was beyond pleasant and he reveled in the heat radiating off of the stout body under him. He could feel the tension built up in Thorin's muscles from thighs to shoulders, and knew what a great deal of restraint he was exhibiting. The desire to buck his hips and drive himself into Bilbo, or roll him over and rut into him like a beast, was written all over his face. The hobbit rewarded Thorin with a thumb pressing against the left piercing on his chest, tugging and rolling the bit of steel with the same speed he used to move on the dwarf's cock. Thorin's chest heaved and he groaned, hips stuttering upward and feet sliding against the furs.

Moving his attention to the other steel bar, Bilbo pressed his other hand to Thorin's belly and lifted himself up, sinking down with more force this time. He did it again, and again, until he had a quick pace set. The smooth, hard feel of the metal in Thorin's cock rubbing against his insides made him whimper and work himself up and down onto Thorin with increasing force, until he panted and shuddered. What had started out as only faint, contained keening in his throat soon turned to ragged moaning and gasping every time Thorin's cock slid back into him. Thorin's hands were bruising on his hips, and the king finally slid one around to grip at Bilbo's ass, swatting him there with a growl that the hobbit answered with a shocked, but pleased, cry. Encouraged, Thorin did the same with his other hand, gripping Bilbo hard and using his strength to drive himself upward while Bilbo forced himself down.

“Oh...oh, you...that's hardly fair! You great...oh...” Bilbo groaned towards the ceiling, for his head had since lolled back. Thorin growled through his harsh breaths and dug his fingers into the softness beneath his hands, driving himself into the tight heat of his beloved. It was hardly fair that Bilbo had toyed with his piercings until he'd been ready to spill like an untried youth, either, and Thorin could not let him get away with that. Bilbo looked down at him, and his normally soft, blue eyes were wide and wild, face flushed and curls dark with sweat at his hairline. He was exquisite, here in his bed more than anywhere else, Thorin thought to himself hazily. To his hobbit's credit, he rocked and ground his hips to match the jarring thrusts that Thorin made up into him, and the deliberate clench of his muscles around Thorin's cock made the dwarf groan and drop his head back, hissing through clenched teeth.

The abrupt, fitful curl of Bilbo's toes against the sides of his legs brought Thorin's attention back from controlling his breath and trying not to lose himself too quickly. Bilbo's face was tipped upward once more, mouth open and desperate, strangled gasps slipping out. One hand had slid from Thorin's belly to curl around his cock, the slick head of it sliding through the tight curl of his fingers. The king swallowed hard and licked his lips, and then took both of Bilbo's hands and gripped them tight, holding them against his lower belly. Bilbo whined loudly and clenched hard around him, giving him a pleading looking.

“Don't be cruel, Thorin,” Bilbo gasped, writhing in place and curling his fingers around Thorin's.

“Hush. Like this,” Thorin said in a rush, still thrusting upwards with as much force as he could muster with the poor leverage his feet against the furs gave him. “I would see you finish from simply having me within you. Ride, my love. I will not let you fall off.”

Bilbo gazed at him, eyes a little unfocused, but he nodded and redoubled his efforts of bouncing on Thorin's cock. He looked obscene, cock spattering fluid onto their bellies as it moved with his frantic rocking and rising and falling. Thorin watched him drive himself higher, tension building in his small body and his awareness shifting inward. His breath grew frantic and shallow, teeth set upon his lip as he chased his release, made all the more difficult without being touched. Thorin pushed his hips up again, at a sharper angle, and Bilbo's positively wailed and spasmed above him. Thorin could have grinned if he had not been as equally strung out, chest heaving like the bellows of a great forge and body aching for release. Bilbo's hands clutched at his, blunt nails digging crescents into the backs of Thorin's hands. Thorin sought to keep the angle he'd found, and Bilbo moved on him like a thing possessed, hips faltering in their rhythm and pounding pace growing more desperate. His cries overwhelmed Thorin's ragged breath and the lewd, wet sound of his cock driving into the other's body. The king caught sight of Bilbo's union bead where it knocked against his neck as he bounced, and then looked up to the hobbit's face. His expression was frantic and elated and he choked out the king's name under his scrutiny.

“ _A_ _nlêkhizu zurkur ûrzud!_ ” Thorin ground out as he gazed up at Bilbo, at his flushed, gleaming skin and shuddering body. His fair hair, a mess of tousled curls, shone like spun gold when the firelight caught it. Thorin's chest burned hotly with satisfaction that this was his and his alone. None other had the privilege.

Bilbo, for the life of him, did not understand what Thorin had said but the rough, grating tone of his voice whenever he spoke in his own language always drove him mad. It was no exception then, and Bilbo slammed himself down and his back arched, hands tugging fitfully at Thorin's as he let out sobbing moans and his cock pulsed out several long, white rivulets onto Thorin's belly. The hobbit rocked against Thorin's lap steadily, shuddering and taking great, gasping breaths as the last bit of his spend dripped from his cock. His thighs burned and trembled with exhaustion and he slumped back against Thorin's bent knees.

“There you are,” Thorin rumbled in a warm voice. Before Bilbo could reply he slid an arm behind Bilbo's back and cradled him, rolling gently until Bilbo's back was against the bed. He drove himself into Bilbo with a slow, powerful roll of his hips.

The hobbit blinked in surprise at being abruptly upended but smiled and kissed Thorin, murmuring a thank you for being given opportunity to rest his legs. He pushed the dwarf's long locks around to one side of his neck to better kiss him without getting a mouthful of hair, stroking his cheek as he did. Thorin hummed fondly and curled his hips forward steadily, biting and sucking at Bilbo's lips and licking into his mouth teasingly. The heat low in his belly had not ceased and it soon grew and consumed him, and his hips snapped forward against Bilbo. One large hand braced him above Bilbo and the other curled possessively against the halfling's lower back, lifting his hips to meet Thorin's thrusts. Bilbo stroked his back, kneaded the tense muscles in his shoulders, and urged him on with quivering moans and tugs to his hair. Thorin's breath suddenly caught in his throat and his hips stuttered and pressed tight to Bilbo's body. His teeth clenched with a savage growl as his release finally found him. The muscles in his stomach and thighs clenched until it nearly hurt. He tucked his face into Bilbo's shoulder as he spilled into him, gripping hard at his back as he shuddered violently and pushed his hips forward clumsily. Bilbo kissed his large ear and traced the curve of it with his lips, murmuring his name fondly and rubbing his sides.

Thorin let Bilbo down onto the bed at length, and he nuzzled against the smooth expanse of his shoulder and kissed his warm skin. His gasps for breath were muffled against the hobbit's skin, and the heat of his breath sent a thrill down the consort's spine. Bilbo smiled after some minutes and wiggled his hips slightly, earning another low moan from the dwarf before he gently eased himself out of the hobbit.

“Just lovely,” Bilbo panted softly, stretching his arms and legs and chuckling as Thorin rolled onto his back beside him with a thump. His eyes closed and he stretched, too, grunting lowly when Bilbo made an amused noise at his attempts to catch his breath. Bilbo reached over and brushed Thorin's hair back from his forehead and ran the pad of his thumb over the dwarf's brows and down the length of his nose. Thorin hummed faintly, contently, at the touches and opened his eyes.

“I did not hurt you?” Thorin asked softly, turning onto his side and smoothing his hand along Bilbo's stomach. The other shook his head and smiled, leaning over to kiss Thorin gently.

“Lovely, as I said. Like riding a rather boisterous pony,” Bilbo replied. Thorin's head tipped back and he laughed heartily, shaking his head and reaching up to muss Bilbo's hair. The hobbit chuckled and closed his eyes at the touch. “How I love you.”

“And I love you, my heart. I missed you greatly,” Thorin whispered, pulling Bilbo a little closer and kissing his forehead. His hand stroked up and down Bilbo's spine before settling upon the back of his neck. The hobbit ducked his head under Thorin's chin and the king jumped slightly when he felt the quick brush of lips over his right nipple, and then the left. He hummed and nosed into Bilbo's hair, cradling the back of his head.

“Do you need something?”

Bilbo peered up at him as his little fingers walked down the expanse of his belly, rubbing his hips in a manner too light to be soothing.

“I believe you threatened to make me wail by only using your tongue,” Bilbo said lightly, looking very thoughtful about the prospect. “I don't suppose you'd want to act on that?”

Thorin gazed at him evenly. His hand on Bilbo's neck slid down his back and gripped the soft curve of his ass, fingers just dipping teasingly between his cheeks to brush against the slick, loosened ring of muscle. Bilbo nearly purred and nudged his nose against Thorin's jaw.

“We have enough oil left for any other vigorous activities,” Bilbo offered in an attempt to convince Thorin. Not that he needed much convincing. The king smiled and tilted his head enough to give the tip of Bilbo's ear a soft bite, sucking at it gently. His middle finger pressed into Bilbo slowly, and the hobbit squirmed in delight. Thorin curled it slowly, and then withdrew entirely from the halfling and rolled over to the edge of the bed. Bilbo watched him get up and stride over to the hearth, and took the opportunity to admire the dip and rise of the muscle along the dwarf's back. The large runes scattered down his back and strong thighs gleamed with sweat, as if fresh, black ink had been painted onto him. He looked powerful and wild and it made Bilbo's stomach flutter excitedly.

“Let me put more wood into the hearth, then, you greedy creature. You get fussy if your ears get cold.”

Bilbo scoffed and turned over onto his front, reaching for a pillow and tucking it under his hips for a bit more support. He rested his forehead again against his folded arms and sighed happily when Thorin's weight made the edge of the mattress dip. A broad hand settled onto his lower back and a scratchy kiss was pressed to his shoulder.

“Oh!” Bilbo said suddenly, his mind choosing a rather inopportune moment to wander. But he was relaxed and still trying to calm his racing heart before he let himself be riled up again, so he continued on. “I'll have to tell you about my meeting with Balin and the others. Daró seemed interested in my knowledge with planting things. I told them I was hardly a farmer, only have a small garden at home, but I think they're hoping I can be of some use with establishing some crops for the kingdom. I promised I'd tell you about the idea.”

“That is a fair idea,” Thorin murmured against his other shoulder, stroking Bilbo's thighs and squeezing the curve of his backside. He nuzzled Bilbo's neck and mouthed his way downward. “Very good of you to offer your help. We can discuss your gift for growing things after I've finished my own sowing.”

It took Bilbo a moment to realize what Thorin had said. He squawked into his arms when the words sunk in and kicked blindly at the dwarf, missing entirely. Thorin's laugh was rough and muffled against his skin as he slowly kissed and nibbled his way down the hobbit's spine.

“You are awful, Thorin Oakenshield. I haven't a clue what I'm doing here with such a brute,” Bilbo said in a scandalized manner. But he was smiling against his forearm. Thorin could hear it in his voice. The dwarf rubbed his bearded chin against the dip of Bilbo's lower back and pressed a lightly biting kiss to one cheek of his ass.

“I truly am,” Thorin sighed with a smile, and he reached for the little phial of oil again. “And I am very happy that you are here, regardless of me being awful.”

Bilbo's soft laugh as Thorin nudged his thighs apart once again made the king's smile grow fond and his heart grow light.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Khuzdul phrases/translations (provided by the amazingly knowledgeable khuzdul4u on Tumblr):
> 
>  _Mukhuh nami halw numûizu?_ \- May I kiss your sweet lips?  
>  _Anlêkhizu zurkur ûrzud_ \- You shine like the sun.
> 
> My first Hobbit fic. I'm having fun with getting to know these characters and forming my own ideas about them. I figured smut is as good of a place to start as any, hah.
> 
> And Dís is a queen because I adore her and I said so. I think she'd make a fantastic ruler. She deserves it after getting so little attention in canon.
> 
> The cock piercing that Thorin has is called an Apadravya. Here is an example (NSFW): [[X](http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/d/d1/Apadravya_Genital_Piercing.jpg/548px-Apadravya_Genital_Piercing.jpg)]
> 
> Also, if you were curious, Bilbo's circlet was inspired by this because I absolutely love it and find it fitting: [[X](http://hobbitunderthemountain.tumblr.com/post/74667045200/tiara-in-three-pieces-in-the-form-of-branches-of)]


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